The Reluctant Heroes
by MafiaAngel
Summary: sa was there when the first Titans appeared. She was there when the world went down in flames; a scared little girl. A little girl who always thought of herself as d she's decided not to go down without a fight. It's set long before the setting of Attack on Titan, when Titans first roamed the world, but I had it labeled as crossover since it does deal with Titans.
1. Chapter 1

The monsters lumbered after her, grins pasted on their faces as every giant step took them closer. Kisa Sohma tried to run as fast as she could, almost tripping over her own two feet as her mother dragged her along. They had to find a place! Somewhere safe, where they could hide until the strange creatures called "Titans" were gone.

_Escape was impossible._

People were screaming, pushing, climbing over each other to get away from the looming threats that approached them. "Run Kisa," Mother whispered, the grip so tight it hurt Kisa's hand. "Don't give up!"

_Die with dignity!_

Every step thundered behind her: closer, the ground almost quaking under her feet, a shadow falling over them. She shouldn't have looked behind her: Kisa never would have the grin stretched almost ear to ear, the blood stained teeth bright in the daylight. She never would have to see how it waddled after her, stubby fingers reaching for her. Kisa screamed as she twisted away; a quick jerk, a movement that broke the grip her mother had on her.

"_Kisa,"_ Mother screamed even as the Titan scooped her up. Her mother looked like a porcelain doll in its hand: delicate, thrashing, hand outstretched to her. Her mother was in that _thing's _hands. Her mother was going to die and there was nothing Kisa could do about it. "Kisa, run! Stop staring and run!"

_Move, _Kisa screamed at herself, even as she sank to her knees. The Titan was raising her to its mouth: a gaping maw, her own mother a wailing, thrashing dot. "M-mother," Kisa whimpered. She couldn't do it. She curled into a ball, a shaking, pathetic ball. She couldn't move and after the Titan ate her mother it would eat her and-

"Sweetheart, can you move?"

Kisa blinked, brought down to earth by the sound of an old woman's voice. She looked to be in her early forties, dark hair pulled back in a bun, blue dress bloodstained. She was pulling on Kisa's arm, practically dragging the young girl to her feet. "Mother," Kisa started, raising her head.

"No," the woman commanded as she dragged her off to the side. "Don't look."

And Kisa tried. Oh how she tried. But it was the crunch of bones breaking, the splatter of blood as it struck exposed skin and the scream that cut off in the middle. It was the knowledge that the grinding sound above her was the sound of her mother's body being turned into mush; that the person Kisa had once known as her mother was now just a corpse being ground into meat to nourish the Titan.

"Here," the woman commanded, throwing open the lid of a dumpster. It was a beaten up thing; dented in many places, green paint chipped off in some places.

"B-but I can't," Kisa started even as the woman attempted to grab her by the middle. Kisa had always been small for her age- it was no great feat for the woman to half chunk her inside and slam the lid shut. Garbage bags did nothing to cushion the sudden crash, the sound of the woman running away even as the thundering footsteps began. Kisa took a deep, shuddering breath, holding it.

The hand would pick the dumpster up, somehow Kisa knew it. It would pick it up and dump it over, allowing Kisa to be buried under the weight of the trash bags. Or maybe, if it wanted to play with her then maybe it would lift the dumpster to its mouth and flick open the lid: Kisa would have nowhere to run, doomed to end inside the same mouth that ground her mother into a fine, red paste. Tears were forming in Kisa's eyes as the footsteps moved passed; they were slower, maybe it was questioning where she was? Maybe it was thinking about eating her later, when she would leave. _If _she would leave.

A scream from somewhere far away- the Titan took off, running away. Kisa broke down; she sobbed, her nose burning from the horrid stench, the only thing to comfort her, the multitude of trash bags. Kisa couldn't make it without her Mother. She had no parents left. And the rest of the Sohma family…

There was no telling where they were.

Kisa Sohma didn't want to die. She didn't want the last thing to be the crunch of her bones or the sight of someone she loved to be them running away. She had, in a sick sense, killed her mother. Kisa couldn't live without depending on someone.

_This is the End of Days._

**So what do yall think? I would be honored to have reviews: how can I improve? What did you like? Thank you for taking the time to read this!**


	2. 2-Ryota

Fujimoto Ryota lived to kill.

There was something about the thrill of the hunt, watching as his target moved. Sometimes they would be intelligent enough to know he was there; sifting through the crowds with their heads down low. Other times they would be blissfully unaware, going about their daily lives before he ended it with three bullets into their skull. It was the way some people would beg: eyes wide, hands trembling as they stared down the barrel of a gun. And Ryota would pull the trigger; a light caress that would send one bullet colliding with tender flesh and precious bone. Fujimoto Ryota was a man the yakuza called if they wanted something crazy done. Something done by someone who didn't give a shit about the strict gun laws that Japan held. He was a loose cannon, but a powerful one, and both he and the yakuza in Tokyo knew it.

And that was why he saw the Titans as a gift from the gods. What else could they be? Superb regenerative abilities; Ryota had seen the news reports. The JSDF seemed to do nothing to the Titans: all those jets, tanks, cruisers, they all meant nothing. Bullets were obviously useless. And the height! They towered over people; a new found prey with a simple mindset, a prey that devoured humans.

Ryota was not a religious man, but if he was, he would have given thanks to whoever had created the Titans.

_Creak._

Ryota took the safe off of his Glock, the black gun a comforting weight in his hand as he approached a green dumpster. The thing was dented, paint peeling, the lid raised about an inch. "Show yourself," Ryota called. The lid slowly rose open.

The girl was pretty and in a few years she would blossom into a _damn_ fine woman, that much Ryota could tell. Short tawny hair shone in the dying sunlight, two longer locks framing a cute face. Dark brown eyes stared at him, begging him to help her. Oh Ryota recognized those eyes. They were the same kind of eyes that some of his victims had: pleading for help, begging for him not to pull the trigger. Her skin was pale and soft; this little girl had never done a day's hard labor before in her life, that much he could tell. Still, she was a smart little bitch- hiding in a dumpster. Who would have thought?

"Puh- please," the girl squeaked out as Ryota stepped forward. Now that he was a bit closer, he could see how chapped her lips were, the smear of something green on one cheek and the stench that seemed to be embedded in her clothes, in her very _being_. She bowed, like a proper Japanese little girl. "Please help me," she murmured. "_Please_."

Ryota lowered his gun. "Can you kill?"

He saw how she flinched, head still lowered.

"There's no dead weight," Ryota sighed. "Either you can fight or you can't. And if you can't, then you might as well fuck off and die."

Her shoulders were shaking- fear? Ryota hoped not. He was impressed by the glimpse of intelligence the little girl showed in her hiding spot, but if the little girl lacked a killing instinct she would be useless to him. Ryota had seen first-hand what a lack of will could do a person. He would not tolerate a useless lump of flesh, no matter how pretty she was.

Slowly, carefully, the little girl raised her head. "They ate my mother," the girl whispered, voice soft. "That thing _ate_ _my mother."_

Ryota grinned. He recognized that hard edge in the little girl's voice _anywhere_. It was a voice that begged for _blood,_ a voice owned by a person who would soon become driven with revenge. This little girl could be just like him. "So," he purred, "what are you going to do about that?"

They locked eyes: dark brown drilling into him, causing his heart to skip a beat. Ryota saw how her tiny hands balled into trembling fists, how the tears began to fall.

_Yes._

"I-I don't," she started, "My family. I want my family! Hiro-kun and-"

"The Titans will kill them," Ryota shrugged. "The Titans will kill all who lack a fighting spirit. Titans are the perfect prey, mine for the killing, a lovely little game. But," here he took a step forward, his lips curling up into an easy going smile. "I cannot kill them all by myself. So," Ryota leaned forward, his body pressing against the dumpster. The little girl scrambled backwards, almost sliding down as she stepped on a saggy trash bag. The easy going smile stretched to a predatory grin. "Will you help me kill them all, little girl?"

"W-what?"

"Kill. Them. All. Its eat or be eaten. Fight or die. And if you don't wish to fight," he trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air.

It was the threat of the unknown, the horror hiding in unspoken words that Ryota adored. But he loved how the pretty girl's face changed: the dawning comprehension coupled with a sudden fierceness, a mere flicker in those pretty brown eyes of hers. "What's your name?"

The little girl shook her head. Ryota raised his gun, pointing it at her chest She was scared, eyes wide, shaking, but that wasn't important. What was important was this: _she wasn't moving_. It wasn't just the lid or the unstable footing that blocked her from moving; Ryota had seen grown men crawl on the ground like babies. It was her standing before him, willing to face him even when she was scared _shitless_. "Tell me," he commanded. "If we're going to be fighting together, we need to think of each other as comrades. My name is Fujimoto Ryota. Yours?"

She gulped. "S-Sohma Kisa," she whispered.

She was like him. Ryota always recognized his fellow killers. And this game just got a bit more exciting.

**Hi everyone! I forgot to put my disclaimer (though its fairly obvious I'm not the creator). So here it goes: I do not own Fruits Basket or Attack on Titan; all intellectual property belongs to their respective owners, which are not me. I do however, own this plot bunny and Ryota (along with a few other ocs). **

**Now, I hope you enjoyed chapter 2. I do have a question though- won't let me upload to Document says Error Type 2. Does anyone know how to fix it? Please and thank you 3 **


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